


Show Me the Miles

by rudearrow



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Butt Plugs, Deaf Clint Barton, Dirty Talk But Sweet?, Dominant Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, Grey Ace Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Lingerie Discussion, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Submissive Clint Barton, buying sex toys together, i was ordered to add 'sooooooooft' as a tag, kink discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudearrow/pseuds/rudearrow
Summary: When Clint was taken, Bucky was several dozen *thousand* lightyears away. This was less than ideal. When Bucky returned, getting Clint from the hospital back to his Bed Stuy apartment was Bucky's first priority. The successive naps, cuddles, and gentle domination were all the second.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 55
Kudos: 254





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepoverwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepoverwork/gifts), [calmena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmena/gifts).



> TWs for: mention of canon abusive Harold Barton; panic attack; slight reference to negative responses to Clint's desire to don lingerie in the past (past responses not Bucky).
> 
> My thanks to Mei, Calmena, and Vex in particular. Your feedback and support is so appreciated! And my thanks to Calmena for her beta prowess. All remaining errors are mine. <3

0--0

_”Get him home and taken care of, James."_

_”He doesn’t need to be coddled, Nat.”_

_"Who says I think it’s him that needs it?"_

0--0

Bucky had successfully gotten Clint from the hospital to the apartment, only to find a nervous looking kid standing outside the door with a truly massive delivery bag. By the looks of the logo, it was stuffed to the brim with what had to be the entire menu from Lucky House Kitchen. Bucky had been ready to interrogate the kid, but before he could open his mouth Clint had reached out and grasped the bag to his chest with disturbingly damp eyes and cooed happily. Against his better judgement, Bucky had simply demanded the receipt, keen to see who had placed the order. He'd blinked in surprise at the note typed into the special requests section.

_Wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I might’ve gone a bit overboard. Don’t bother coming to the debrief tomorrow. - Stark_

It had been a nice gesture. An olive branch made of noodles, spring rolls, and deep fried dough. Bucky heaved a sigh and begrudgingly allowed some of his lingering anger towards Stark to fade away. It was a little alarming how releasing some of that anger left Bucky practically wilting with fatigue. Maybe he should hang onto his anger a little longer- but then again, Bucky wasn’t just furious with Stark. And _Rogers_ hadn’t sent food from Clint’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

Even half-unconscious from exhaustion, Clint had been delighted, shoving noodles into his mouth and slurping them down with his usual disgusting enthusiasm. For once, Bucky hadn’t bothered to tell him what an animal he was, just poked at his own plate absently while he watched Clint carefully.

By Bucky’s estimate, Clint had probably lost a good ten pounds, but someone who didn’t know him would just assume he ran more towards the rangy side. Clint’s normally fairly close-cropped hair was distinctly shaggy now, falling into his eyes and obscuring the little pads of gauze taped over his temples. Bucky closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden and all-encompassing flash of rage that those two little patches of white sparked. He breathed through it and ran a countdown from ten in six different languages. More centered, Bucky opened his eyes again to see Clint watching him, a pinched expression on his mobile face.

“You okay, man?”

Bucky reined in the knee-jerk brushoff sitting on the tip of his tongue; that wasn’t the type of relationship they had anymore. They didn’t have to pretend here. He shook his head slowly, “No, not really.”

Clint heaved out a sigh and pushed his noodles away, “Yeah. Me either.”

They sat like that, companionably miserable, for a long while. Bucky could feel the familiar pressure of poorly suited words building up in his chest, clawing at his throat. There were so many malformed, disjointed sentences tangled inside of him that he found himself unable to speak at all. This wasn’t about him. Clint was the one who had been abducted. Who had been interrogated. Who had been injected with insidious chemicals. Who had been strapped to a chair and electro-

Suddenly, the air was thick and viscous around him, pressing against his skin, filling his spasming lungs. Bucky gasped fruitlessly. He could see nothing; just inky black on all sides. A relentless buzzing filled his ears.

“-cky? Bucky?”

Clint. He needed to get to Clint.

“Shit, _fuck_... Babe, I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?”

His eyes were open.

“No, no they’re not. If they were open, then you could blink, right? Blink for me, Bucky.”

Clint's worried face flickered into view.

“Hey, there you are. Jeez, okay- you can stop with the blinking now. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

Oh. Bucky managed to keep his eyes open. No wonder his vision had been choppy. Now it was just a little blurred around the edges.

“Okay, step one, eyes on me- do not close them,” Clint’s tone was soothing but firm. Bucky stared at him, disgruntled. “Oh, good. If you’re grumpy that means you’re back. Ish.”

Bucky tried to make a snarky comment but all that escaped his clenched teeth was a gasp.

“Babe, what color are my eyes?” Clint asked nonsensically. Bucky was so startled by the question that he forgot to even try to breathe. He stared at Clint, utterly confused.

“What?”

“What color are my eyes? Look at them and tell me.”

Bucky looked. Clint’s eyes were the same as always- big and almond shaped, slightly hooded, and a bright, clear blue.

“Blue- they’re blue.”

“Yeah, babe, they’re blue,” Clint smiled at him and held one hand out, palm facing Bucky. “Can I touch you?” At Bucky’s jerky nod, Clint pressed that palm flat against his sternum. “Now breathe in,” Clint said, puffing out his own chest on a deep breath. Bucky followed suit. He lost count quickly, but-

Suddenly the world sharpened into greater clarity. Panic attack. Focusing on the feel of Clint’s warm palm splayed across his chest, Bucky stuttered in another breath. He’d had a panic attack. Swallowing hard, he reached up to grip Clint’s hand against his chest tightly.

“I’m sorry, I-” he cut off with a choked sound of frustration.

“Okay, your apologetic feelings are valid and all, but seriously. A panic attack is not your fault.”

Bucky hung his head between his shoulders; the sudden loss of adrenalin leaving it swimming with fatigue. He was vaguely aware of Clint’s soft, reassuring murmurs, the pressure of his big hands on Bucky’s shoulders as he tugged him towards the bedroom. Then Bucky was blinking up at Clint, utterly confused until he caught a clue from the plush give of the mattress underneath him. He watched as Clint kicked off his own boots, then tackled Bucky’s. Clearly too exhausted to undress them further, Clint crawled onto the bed, then gingerly tugged off his aids and placed them onto the nightstand.

He turned himself to face Bucky and pressed closer until they were chest to chest. Bucky felt the bubble of agonizing tension buried deep in his chest deflate and the release of pressure was stunning. He tossed an arm across Clint and tugged, tucking the other man’s face against the hollow of his throat. Clint gripped Bucky’s hip tightly and kissed his collarbone once, twice- then his long body went slack as sleep pulled him under.

Despite his exhaustion, Bucky found himself unable to follow suit. Instead he listened to the slowly oscillating blades of the fan above and the deep, even breaths of the man in his arms and just drifted.

0--0

Swapping one chipped and scratched plate for another methodically, Bucky scrubbed and rinsed dishes to the now familiar hum and honk of late afternoon traffic that permeated the walls of Clint’s old brownstone. He found the task almost meditative, especially now, but it was something Clint more often than not commandeered.

Bucky used his shoulder to shove his damp hair out of his face with a grimace of annoyance. He really should’ve tied it back before starting the dishes, but he’d wanted to get to them while Clint was still knocked out in the bedroom. The man could be kind of a slob, everything but his weapons were fair game to be scattered across the apartment, but Clint didn’t tolerate dirty. So dishes never lingered in the sink- not even for one night. Bucky had seen Clint set about cleaning dishes just hours after being released from medical with a fresh gunshot wound. If Bucky had to guess, he’d bet it something to do with Clint having experienced squalor as a child. Yet another black mark for Bucky’s running tally against Harold Barton’s character.

What a bastard.

Bucky toed the under-sink cabinet open and snagged a clean dish towel for drying. After, with a tick born of habit, he bumped the door closed with his hip. He winced at the muted bang, then dismissed it- Clint had taken his aids out before crashing. 

Then again, maybe Bucky _should_ wake Clint. He’d been sleeping since sometime between noon and one. It was pushing seven now. Bucky had slipped out of bed around not long ago, hitting the shower before heading straight for the kitchen to tidy up. Showering had certainly made _him_ feel more human, so it was probably in Clint’s best interests as well.

The stairs creaked behind him and Clint’s lanky figure stumbled into the kitchen, beelining straight for the coffee pot. Bucky stared incredulously before his brain kicked back into gear.

“What the fresh fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Brwha?” Clint replied helpfully.

“It’s seven pm, Barton. _P.M._ ”

Clint simply blinked at him, clearly befuddled. He pressed the on button of the coffee pot hopefully.

“Oh my god, your sense of self-preservation is dead,” Bucky stalked over to the machine and jerked the plug straight from the socket.

“But- But coffee,” Clint turned agonised eyes to Bucky.

“No, no way. Absolutely not. You just got out of the hospital- you need rest, not caffeine.”

Clint narrowed his sleep-swollen eyes at him balefully. He shuffled over to Bucky and draped himself across the shorter man’s shoulders, snuffling tiredly. Bucky, despite himself, was oddly charmed. Damn it.

“You stink.”

Clint grunted agreeably.

“You’ll probably fall and die if you try to shower right now though.”

Clint shrugged, lifting his hand to see-saw it slowly- a gesture clearly meant to represent his thoughts on the odds of his death by slippery tile. His aim was sorely lacking, fingers perilously close to jabbing Bucky in the eye. Sighing in resignation, Bucky grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. Clint shivered, burbling his tired approval.

“C’mon, you idiot. Back to bed,” Bucky said fondly.

It was Bucky’s turn to steer them both up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He deposited Clint on the bed, rolling his eyes at the other man’s instant sprawl across it like a lanky starfish. The air in the room was a bit stale, so Bucky cracked the window. He stripped down to his briefs and climbed into the bed. Then he set about the laborious task of deploying every tactic he knew in an attempt to reclaim enough mattress to lay comfortably- primarily consisting of poking, prodding, and gentle shoving. Eventually, Clint relented and his body curved into a loose fetal position.

“Thank Christ,” Bucky said, fitting himself against Clint’s back and tugging him close.

Bucky doubted he’d sleep, but hell- it was worth a try.

0--0

Like always, awareness of his surroundings flooded through him in an abrupt wash of sensory input- the faint tickle of his exposed body hair moving to the push and pull of the ceiling fan overhead; the muted daylight seeping past the blinds; the sharper fall of the bathroom light streaming underneath the closed door; the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running. He was in Bed Stuy with Clint. Who had, by the sounds of it, just finished taking care of nature’s call and would soon be returning to bed. By the time the door to the bathroom had begun to turn Bucky was fully awake, though he hadn’t bothered to move from his sprawled position on the bed.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Clint quipped, rubbing at one eye lazily. His hair curled damply against his nape and forehead and a wave of steamy air followed him into the room. The formation of a complete sentence indicated he’d finally gotten his coffee. Bucky must have been practically comatose to have missed all of that noise. “Y'know, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been able to move around without you waking right up.”

Bucky grunted. Admitting that his ability to sleep through Clint’s movements was as much a trust thing as an exhaustion thing was something he was not equipped for right now. He levered himself up onto his forearms and pushed until he was seated against the headboard. “It was a long trip.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Clint chuckled lowly, running a palm lightly across his freshly shaven face. Bucky was relieved to see that the deep circles that had previously carved out a home underneath his eyes had faded to dusty smudges. His blue eyes were finally sharp and clear. “You only flew across the _galaxy_ , man. For three weeks.”

“And _you_ only got bagged by a cult. For three weeks,” Bucky shot back, patting the bed next to himself. “Sit down before you fall down, you idiot.”

Clint shuffled over amicably, his favored lounging wear- a pair of tattered purple sweatpants- slung lower than usual. Bucky made a mental note to stock up on Clint’s favorite snacks on their next grocery run. Pausing for dramatic effect, Clint crawled onto the bed and flopped next to Bucky, wiggling a little with a pointed groan of glee.

“I love bed,” he sighed happily.

Bucky swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat. “Hey, get up here,” he said, reaching to clasp a hand around Clint’s wrist and tug lightly. It was suddenly critically important that he and Clint be touching. “Why are you way over there, huh?”

“Way over- I’m right next to you, you weirdo!” Clint said, but then his incredulous face morphed into something soft and fond. Bucky felt far too seen. “Yeah, okay. Tell you what, why don’t you just manhandle me where you want me, you big strong man.”

“Oh, is that how it is?”

“Absolutely.”

Bucky gripped Clint’s biceps, tugged him up, up, and then twisted- pulling him onto his lap in one swift movement. Clint’s startled yelp was gratifying and Bucky snickered into the other man’s nape.

“Challenge accepted.”

“Oh, _now_ he says,” Clint griped good-naturedly, wriggling down until his head rested just under Bucky’s chin. “Now that you’ve got me where you want me, what’s the plan?”

“Now that I’ve got you where I want you…” Bucky reached into the nightstand, fumbling until he grasped his target. He paused, relishing Clint’s anticipatory inhale and almost imperceptible shiver. That was a reaction to put a pin in for sure. But for now-

Bucky pulled out his tablet and presented it to Clint with a flourish.

Clint laughed, groaning in mock agony. “You bastard, you really had me going for a minute.”

“Mm, don’t think I didn’t notice,” Bucky stroked his left hand down Clint’s shoulder lightly, then slung his arm across the other man’s chest. Clint, contrary to Bucky’s initial concerns, loved the weight of the mechanical arm across his body. This was something Bucky was more than happy to indulge as it often, like now, resulted in Clint melting against him. “Who are we reading today? Asimov or Le Guin?”

“Mm, I want to hear more about Ged.”

“I can do that.”

0--0

The next 36 hours or so passed in a haze of naps, takeout, and Bucky dutifully reading through the rest of the Earthsea Trilogy with Clint curled up against him. They were nearing the end of the second book, so Bucky flicked his tablet off Airplane Mode briefly to get the third one downloading. He groaned in annoyance at the deluge of notifications and Clint wiggled up to watch them scroll wildly down the page with an expression of demented glee.

“Holy shit, Bucky- when was the last time you took this thing online?”

“Definitely before being shot into outer space,” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. This was precisely why he kept the damn thing offline. When he wanted to read, he wanted to _read_ \- not see notifications for every poor decision he’d ever made in regards to online subscriptions or purchases.

“Food 52, really?” Clint raised a brow, looking impressed despite himself. “Didn’t know you were such a foodie, Barnes.” He lifted up on his forearms for a better look. “Ooh, look, Trump did something stupid. Again. Yipee.” Bucky swiped the slew of News app notifications into oblivion with a scowl.

Clint patted his shoulder in commiseration, then abruptly stiffened against him, fingers suddenly gripping his shoulder tightly. Bucky was briefly confused, but then he saw it.

_“Hello from B &E! Your requested item of ‘Stainless Steel Dildo/Prostate Massager’ is coming back in stock soon. You ca-”_

“Ah,” Bucky said.

Clint tilted his head at the screen thoughtfully, “So, are we getting it or…”

Bucky glanced over, scrutinizing Clint’s intrigued expression. They hadn’t done more than share some chaste, lazy kisses since they’d holed themselves up in the apartment three days ago. Clint had practically been a ghost of himself from tension and weariness and Bucky hadn’t been much better. But now Clint’s eyes were bright and clear, his wide pink mouth parted while he was clearly lost in some kind of daydream involving Bucky’s ‘requested item’.

“Why don’t we take a closer look, sweetheart?”

Clint inhaled sharply, turning to meet Bucky’s gaze. There were specific words that had distinct implications when Bucky used them. Their dynamic and Clint’s triggers didn’t allow for certain words, but a ‘sweetheart’ or ‘baby’ garnered highly positive responses.

Clint’s throat clicked when he swallowed and his voice was gritty with anticipation when he replied.

“Yes, please.”

Pressing a quick kiss to Clint’s forehead, Bucky tabbed open the alert.

The toy was impressive- long and wickedly curved, with a hefty knob of bulbous metal at one end. Bucky swiped through the pictures slowly, lingering on a closeup of a demonstration of the toy’s size with a thoughtful hum.

Clint shifted minutely next to him, clearly affected. Like a switch had been flicked, the atmosphere of what was previously an indolent, sleepy cuddle session had become charged. He could see the edge of Clint’s need in the sharpness of his gaze and the subtle but definite widening of his pupils. He could feel it in the thump of Clint’s heartbeat against Bucky’s own chest.

Bucky felt a respondent thread of arousal unfurl in his gut.

“What do you think, baby?” he asked. Clint shivered in response, a blush starting high in his cheeks and highlighting the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. “You want that in you?”

“I think I want you to put it in the cart, like, yesterday.”

“I’ll take that as an enthusiastic yes,” Bucky said, efficiently adding it to his empty cart. “I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun. I’ll spread you out across my lap and edge you for hours- till you can’t even speak.”

Clint closed his eyes on a low groan. “You’re going to kill me.”

From this vantage point Bucky had the perfect line of sight to see Clint’s dick twitch against the soft fabric of his worn sweats. He felt a thrum of satisfaction at the sight and dipped his head to nose behind the aid on Clint’s ear. Clint arched minutely in response and his cock filled further, the line of it swelling under Bucky’s gaze.

“Take the tablet, sweetheart,” he said, low and firm against the curve of Clint’s ear. Clint shivered and moved to obey without hesitation. “Good boy.”

“Jesus,” Clint choked out, gripping the tablet tightly when Bucky reached down to cup his hand lightly over the bulge of Clint’s cock. Bucky hummed approvingly as it thickened further under his palm. He rubbed a finger down the base of the shaft as a reward.

“We’re going to shop while I hold you just like this,” Bucky said, his voice a rumbling murmur against the thin skin of Clint’s throat. He nipped under the other man’s jaw lightly, grinning when Clint whined and pressed his groin up against the gentle cupping of Bucky’s hand. Bucky trailed his free hand up Clint’s exposed chest, pausing to tweak a nipple sharply before settling under his jaw gently. “Green?”

Clint moaned in response, nodding frantically.

“You know the rules- verbal consent required,” Bucky said, chiding.

“Green,” Clint confirmed immediately. “So, so green. Neon even.”

Bucky bit down on his neck again, gentle but firm and Clint’s fingers gripped the tablet so tightly that the protective casing creaked. His mouth fell open on a gasp and Bucky smoothly slid two fingers between his parted lips. Clint began sucking immediately with a low groan of relief. Bucky kissed the reddened welt he’d just left and hummed approvingly. Clint’s oral fixation was almost as intense as his coffee addiction, a fact which never failed to delight Bucky.

“Yeah, I figured my boy needed something to do with his mouth,” Bucky said warmly. “Now open up the menu for me. I think we need to expand our collection, don’t you?”

Clint’s immediate obedience and the increased pressure of his mouth on Bucky’s fingers signalled his approval. Bucky ran his index finger along Clint’s shaft before spreading his hand to cup the other man lightly once more. He repeated the motions leisurely as Clint scrolled through the website with shaky hands. Eventually, Bucky pulled his fingers from the soft, relentless pressure of Clint’s obedient mouth. He huffed a laugh at Clint’s disappointed whine and rubbed his spit-slick fingers across the other man’s swollen lips.

“Your jaw was a minute away from cramping up and you know it,” he said fondly. Clint let loose a mutinous grumble, but when he stretched his jaw wide a moment later it creaked in protest and Bucky hummed in vindication.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint said. The hoarse timbre of his voice sent a spike of want through Bucky’s core. “I can feel the smugness radiating off of you, you know.”

Bucky tweaked his nipple sharply in rebuke for the sass and Clint hissed out a curse under his breath. Circling it with gentle strokes, Bucky kissed Clint’s temple.

“Add those nipple clamps with the chain to the basket,” he instructed. Clint let out a ragged breath and complied with shaking fingers. “Atta boy.”

An hour in, they had added an array of items to their cart. Given Clint’s enthusiasm for having his ass filled as often as Bucky would allow, three new plugs were added to their toy kit: a sweet little vibrating number that would synch to Bucky’s phone, a medium steel plug with a purple rhinestone embedded into the base, and an intimidating looking plug that was considerably thicker than Bucky’s cock, with a two inch diameter.

The rhinestone plug had surprised Bucky. He’d tossed out the idea idly, half-joking, but Clint’s positive response was immediate and undeniable. The other man flushed, eyes canting shyly to the side.

“Oh, I see,” Bucky said. “You want to feel pretty, Clint? Full and stretched by a plug with a shiny purple stone- so I can bend you over and tell you how pretty you look for me?”

Clint made a low sound, the flush spreading rapidly down his chest. His cock twitched hard under Bucky’s hand. _Jesus_. Bucky closed his eyes briefly, a wave of affection sideswiping him. This man was going to be the death of him.

“Sweetheart, if you want to be prettied up for me, I’m all in. Maybe we’ll get you some nice lace panties and stockings, huh? And a bralette number.”

“You don’t think I’d look stupid?” Clint asked immediately, clearly shooting for nonchalant but landing somewhere near heartbreakingly fragile. Bucky sensed a history behind that question and felt a spike of anger at the unnamed someone who had been been so irresponsible and cruel to damage Clint's trust.

Besides, that person had clearly been unhinged. The thought of Clint’s mile-long legs wrapped in velvety stockings had nearly short-circuited Bucky’s brain. This was an opinion Bucky was happy to share with Clint, who confirmed shyly that he was more than interested in slipping on some delicate lingerie. Several pairs of panties, stockings, and bralettes were enthusiastically added to the cart.

Bucky paused his browsing and took stock of Clint’s state. He was covered in a sheen of sweat from head to toe and shivering in bursts against Bucky’s solid chest. Bucky lifted his palm from Clint’s groin, breathing in sharply at the massive damp patch revealed underneath.

“Oh, sweetheart. Look at you,” he stroked Clint’s sweaty hair back, depositing a kiss at the corner of one vividly blue eye. A jolt of arousal struck him at Clint’s answering gasp. “You’re so wet- you absolutely soaked your sweats. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

Clint tipped his head back against Bucky’s shoulder with a desperate groan.

“When our new toys come I’m going to sit in this exact spot while I tell you exactly what to do with each and every one of them. And when your nipples are clamped and your ass is full of that monster of a plug we just ordered, you’re going to lay your head right on my lap and warm my cock.”

“Fuck, oh fuck-” Clint said, digging his heels into the bed.

“Maybe, if I feel like it...,” Bucky scraped his nails steadily down Clint’s sides. “I’ll pull the plug out of you and have you slide right down onto my cock- won’t fuck you though. I’ll just tug on that chain until you come. Nothing but the clamps, and me filling you up.”

He tugged Clint’s loose sweats down, exposing his hard cock. It jutted out from a damp nest of dark blond curls, dripping with the precome that had been steadily leaking for the past hour. Bucky reached down to fist it lightly and Clint jerked so hard against him that Bucky was nearly knocked back into the wall. He waited a few beats, then repeated the motion until his hand was nearly as slick as Clint’s dick.

“Roll onto your side a bit for me, baby,” Bucky said and kissed Clint’s shoulder approvingly when the man immediately obeyed. Bucky reached down, circling and rubbing at Clint’s hole steadily. He watched his partner’s slack, heavy-lidded expression carefully as he pressed a finger inside smoothly. Clint didn’t even blink, just sighed deeply and draped even more heavily against Bucky’s front. “Oh, look at you. You’re so good, Clint- opening right up for me.”

He murmured praises against Clint’s ear and scattered kisses down his neck, adding a second finger quickly and sliding them both deep. Clint panted shallowly against him, eyes glassy with pleasure. Bucky wasted no time, holding his fingertips relentlessly against Clint’s prostate.

Clint shouted, bucking against him weakly. Bucky pressed his fingers there, unyielding, until Clint’s breaths began to hitch minutely. Then he began to massage, the stroke of his fingertips achingly slow but firm. It was a flatteringly short period of time before Clint started to beg, but Bucky simply passed his other hand over Clint’s side soothingly.

“No, I won’t go faster or harder. I’m going to milk every drop of come from you, sweetheart, just like this.”

He watched, riveted, as Clint’s face smoothed gradually from sharply contorted desperation into absolute lassitude. True to his word, Bucky never wavered from his glacial pace. When Clint finally came, it rippled through him, as gentle and inevitable as the tide coming ashore. He didn’t cry out, just gasped quietly and stared with unseeing blue eyes. Come spilled out of him, dripping in rivulets from his belly, down across his hip and onto the sheets. Bucky kept stroking, pace unchanged, and watched with hungry eyes as that steady stream gathered into a pool. Eventually, Clint began to jerk against him, oversensitive and aching no doubt, and Bucky hesitated for a moment. Clint quickly signed _green_ at him with shaking fingers and Bucky resumed his rhythm.

Soon, with his face damp from tears and his torso jerking helplessly across Bucky’s lap, Clint came again. Bucky whispered praises against Clint’s flushed skin and continued stroking, his pace unchanged. The flutter and clench of Clint’s hole around his fingers matched the weak spurts of come from his cock. Bucky watched, mesmerised.

“So much, baby,” he said quietly.

Clint lifted his head, wobbling and halting, to stare down at the mess he’d made.

“Fuck,” he said, voice a faint rasp. Clint blinked up at Bucky dazedly. His face was pink and tear streaked; his forehead half-covered with sweat-dampened blond hair. In short, he looked completely wrecked.

“Gorgeous,” Bucky said softly. He stroked the fine skin under Clint’s eye with his thumb gently. “You think you can give me one more or are you done?”

Clint seemed to struggle to parse Bucky’s question for a long moment, then looked as if he was having a short internal debate. Content to wait, Bucky continued his petting.

“Wanna, but don’t think I can,” Clint finally answered. His words were worn soft with fatigue, the vowels overly rounded and consonants barely present. Bucky smiled.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he said, ducking to kiss one damp cheek. Clint’s eyes fluttered shut and he gave a pleased sounding hum, turning into the soft press of Bucky’s lips. He was clearly struggling to keep his head angled, so Bucky gripped his opposite hip and shoulder to gently rotate Clint until he was laying chest to chest between the vee of Bucky’s legs. Clint went without a fuss, pliable as warm clay. He settled against Bucky’s chest with a tired murmur and proceeded to mouth at his pectoral lazily. Bucky snorted, dropping a kiss to the crown of Clint’s head.

“Shut up,” Clint said, voice muffled by Bucky’s skin and slurred with fatigue. “Need to touch you.”

“Hey, not complaining,” Bucky said. He reached down to tug at Clint’s damp hair lightly and grinned when the man hissed quietly with pleasure. A swell of affection rolled through Bucky at the sound. Demonstrating that affection, through gentle touches and words, was something Bucky struggled with more often than not. It was a hard-earned trust between himself and Clint that allowed it. Each time the door to the outside world closed behind them, a cocoon of certainty enveloped Bucky that was dizzying in its freedom. “This is one of my favorite parts.”

“Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier- a cuddle whore. Who’d’ve guessed,” Clint said and huffed a laugh into Bucky’s chest.

“I like it when you’re like this. No thinking- just feeling, wanting,” Bucky replied. He hesitated, feeling as though he were making a confession- laying his feelings at the altar of truth. “I like that we get to just be.”

Clint wrapped his long arms around Bucky’s torso and squeezed tightly, humming thoughtfully. When Clint finally spoke, his voice was quiet but firm.

“Me too.”

0--0


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: some internalised slut-shaming and a post-sex chat that deals with said internalised slut-shaming.

0--0

Bucky breathed in deeply, relishing the feeling of contentment that ran through him at Clint’s answering confession. They laid together like that for a long time. The shadows on the floor lengthened slowly and Bucky swept his palm across Clint’s broad back. Eventually, the peace had to be broken though.

“We need to clean up,” he said, almost regretfully. Clint, clearly in disagreement, just grunted and burrowed more firmly against Bucky.

Undeterred, Bucky twined one of the longer pieces of Clint’s hair between his fingers for a moment, then stroked downward to grip Clint’s nape firmly. He grinned at the resulting full body shiver and low moan. Clint looked up at him, expression indicating a complete loss of higher brain function. 

“Hngh.”

Bucky grinned down at him affectionately. 

“Let’s get a plug in you and I’ll run a bath for us both,” he said, noting with amusement how Clint’s sleepy expression sharpened immediately at the suggestion of being plugged. Bucky reached down to probe at Clint’s hole lightly, tightening the grip on his nape possessively as a shiver of pleasure rippled through Clint at the press of Bucky’s fingers. “Go pick out a good one, sweetheart.”

“You got it, boss,” Clint said, eyes gleaming with anticipation. He briefly propped himself up onto his elbows to deposit a quick peck onto Bucky’s lips, stripped his sweats off completely, and staggered enthusiastically towards the closet where the toy box lived. Bucky swatted half-heartedly at his retreating backside with an amused huff and went to fill the tub. 

Clint was downright insatiable about being filled, spending half of their down time with a plug stretching him wide as he puttered around the apartment. And as much as Clint loved it... Bucky was not far behind. Initially, he hadn’t quite gotten it, but one day Clint had explained it to him- _When you put the plug in me, it’s like a security blanket. I don’t know how else to describe it… like you’re_ inside _of me by extension. It’s comforting._

After that, well, Bucky hadn’t really looked at the plugs the same since. Ironically, putting a plug in Clint now, knowing it would soothe him, would comfort _Bucky_. He shook his head, bemused. God, he hated when Natasha was right. Bucky really did need this.

The tub was nearly full when Clint sidled into the bathroom, “Sorry, took longer than I thought- I swapped the sheets out, too.” He was holding a bottle of lube in one hand and his chosen plug in the other. 

“The weighted one, huh?” Bucky said and arched a brow. Weighted, medium girth, and a dusky purple- Bucky thought back to the jeweled plug they’d picked out earlier. “Any particular reason?”

Clint flushed all the way down to his navel but met Bucky’s gaze steadily. “It’s the prettiest one we have.”

Bucky reached out to tug Clint closer and pluck the plug from his hand. It was cleverly designed and elegantly shaped- with a wide solid body and a long narrow neck that allowed it to sit deeply for long periods of wear. He stretched up to kiss Clint, chaste and brief. “Look at you... Already so pretty for me with that blush. Why don’t you get comfortable, sweetheart.”

0--0

Bucky murmured soothing encouragements, watching with a fierce contentment as Clint’s skin pinked further under his praise. Clint was on his knees, arms propped against the lip of the tub, while Bucky prepped him generously with the lube. Kneading Clint’s ass with one hand, Bucky carefully pushed the tapered tip of the plug into him. Clint gasped quietly, rocking back minutely. 

“You’re so good for me,” Bucky said and kissed the small of Clint’s back. He fucked Clint with the plug slowly, the slick, filthy sound a delicious counterpoint to Clint’s panting breaths. When Bucky finally slid the plug home, Clint moaned, long and low. The sound sent a shiver down Bucky’s own spine and he allowed himself to feel a thrum of satisfied pride at Clint’s obvious pleasure.

“There you go, sweetheart. It looks so nice.” And it did- the flared T-shape of the base curved beautifully between Clint’s cheeks, contrasting nicely with his flushed skin. “It might be time to go up a size in this one, what d’you think?”

Clint sighed and nodded absently, spine curving sinuously as he shifted the weighted plug inside himself again and again.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, his cock already rising to half-mast once more. Bucky batted Clint’s hands away as he instinctively reached down to massage his cock for some relief. 

“Nope, into the bath,” he said, bemused. “I didn’t add in those fancy salts you love for them to go to waste.”

They lounged in the bath for a long while, their positions from earlier reversed as Bucky reclined back against Clint’s long chest and broad shoulders. Eventually though, Clint’s fingers began to twitch agitatedly and Bucky grinned knowingly. “Go for it,” he said, tilting his head back so he could meet Clint’s gaze. Clint ducked his head sheepishly.

“Like you don’t love it, too” he said with a huff. 

Washing Bucky’s hair was one of Clint’s favorite bath related activities. Over time, it had become one of Bucky’s too.

“Y’know, in retrospect,” Bucky said thoughtfully, “I think all those times you called me a greaseball... It was just some projection. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on this hair, admit it.”

Clint snorted, “Couldn’t wait to strip off all that grime, maybe.”

“Mm, sure,” Bucky said. He wasn’t about to argue while Clint’s long, talented fingers were massaging his scalp so nicely. His dick throbbed pleasantly when Clint reached a particularly sensitive spot at his nape. “Gotta love the hands of an archer.”

“Glad my life’s work has its perks for you,” Clint said acerbically, but Bucky could feel the shape of Clint’s grin pressed up against his temple. Bucky snickered, then made a low noise deep in his chest as Clint spread one of those massive hands to rest from Bucky’s sternum to his navel, fingertips perilously close to his dick. “Can- are you?” Clint said. He always stumbled when Bucky’s body showed interest, hesitant to make Bucky feel pressured but also eager to give him pleasure if he wanted it. “Tell me what you want, Bucky.”

Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes, assessing. A low thrum of arousal had suffused his body during the hours of teasing Clint. He’d been half-hard by the time Clint had come the first time. Bucky let his mind drift through a flipbook of scenarios: Clint jerking him off just like this; Clint naked on his knees, sucking Bucky’s cock while he sat at the edge of the bed; Clint bent over the nearest flat surface while Bucky’s cock sank into- Bucky opened his eyes abruptly.

He was fully hard now, cock desperately straining up towards his belly. Bucky circled his fingers around Clint’s wrist gently, pulling it off his chest so he could turn his torso to meet the other man’s eyes fully. 

“I want to fuck you,” he said evenly. Clint’s pupils flared wide and Bucky felt a thrill dart along his spine and settle in his gut, flaring into a warm spread of arousal that made his hands want to _touch_. 

“Fuck, yes,” Clint whispered hoarsely. “Please.”

0--0

Bucky worked the plug out of Clint slowly and placed it to the side. He swallowed hard at the sight of Clint’s hole clenching around nothing, a trail of lube trickling slowly down his inner thigh. Slicking his cock quickly, Bucky ran a gentling hand along Clint’s ribs. Clint clenched his hands into fists, his forearms resting flat on the countertop of the bathroom sink, and shifted back with a whine.

“Bucky, c’mon” he said weakly. 

Bucky stroked his hair lightly, pushing the flared head of his cock against the soft give of Clint’s stretched, wet hole. He groaned at the sensation.

“You’re so ready for me, baby,” he said, awe coloring his voice. “Look at you- so wet you’re dripping. God, you feel good.” 

He rocked his hips forward minutely, relishing the filthy sound of his cockhead pressing into that wet heat. Clint dropped his head to hang between his broad shoulders with a strangled sound. Bucky hummed with satisfaction. There was something undeniably beautiful about Clint stretched out like this; all of his long, sharp lines and what seemed like miles upon miles of skin on display. He continued to fuck into Clint shallowly until the other man was shaking, sweat gathering on his skin. 

“Bucky, please, please,” Clint was babbling now, biting down on his lower lip with a whine. Bucky hissed at the sight, a primal flare of approval striking him. He stroked Clint’s hair gently and pulled his cock away with a groan. “No, no- don’t,” Clint protested.

Bucky tightened the grip in Clint’s hair and pressed his dick in with one long stroke; Clint choked, words suddenly lost. He was a bit loose and so, so slick- Bucky swiveled his hips, pressing in close. He tugged Clint’s head back carefully until he was arched beautifully, on full display in the vanity mirror. 

“Barely even had to push,” he said. Bucky’s vision blurred as Clint clenched around his cock. “You know what this feels like, Clint? Like you’re sloppy seconds. All stretched out and dripping- Ready for me to come and fill you up a second time.”

He watched Clint’s face in the mirror, tracking the spread of his deep flush down, down until it reached his navel. Clint cut his eyes away, embarrassed, even as his cock continued to signal his interest. Bucky shushed him gently, kneading his hip affectionately.

“You like that idea, sweetheart? You always want something in you so bad- ass or mouth, it doesn’t matter, does it?” Bucky lifted onto his toes slightly to change the angle and grinned at Clint’s answering moan. Clint had made his interest in the idea of a spitroasting threesome known months ago. It was something they’d been circling around carefully, but now Bucky wanted to strip away some of that caution and Clint’s shame. “I think it would be hot as hell, watching you get fucked... Sliding into your ass right after and feeling all that come, watching it leak out of you. Knowing I’d be putting more in.”

His voice was taut now, strained with the effort of keeping the hard, grinding press of his hips steady. He wanted so badly to pound into the wet, fluttering heat gripping his aching cock. But he wanted Clint’s desperation more. 

“Bucky, fuck,” Clint said brokenly, shuddering underneath him. His eyes rolled back on a shaky sigh. “I want- ”

“What do you want, baby?”

“Your cock- your,” Clint trailed off brokenly. “Bucky, please. Want you to fuck me.”

Bucky tugged his hair firmly. “You’re not being completely honest with me, sweetheart.” Clint’s shoulders dipped at the sound of Bucky’s disappointment. The sight sent a pang through Bucky's chest. He softened his voice, stroking his thumb across the curve of Clint’s temple encouragingly. “Don’t hide from me. That’s not what we do.”

Clint swallowed hard, panting. His whole body was as pulled tight as one of his bowstrings; held in suspension, just waiting for release. Bucky felt a wash of pleasure at the sight. He bit down on his lower lip, hard, fighting for composure. They were so close.

“I- I want.”

“It’s okay. I want you to want,” Bucky answered, distantly aware how nonsensical he sounded. But that was clearly what Clint needed to hear, because Bucky felt the snap of that bow-taut tension release. He watched raptly as Clint’s whole body just _gave_ , melting against the press of Bucky’s hands and cock beautifully. “Oh sweetheart.”

“Want you to fuck me… after,” Clint said, voice syrupy and low. His half-lidded eyes met Bucky’s in the mirror. “Wanna feel you fill me up. Just like you said.”

And that was it, Bucky was gone. He pulled out until the head of his cock was stretching Clint’s hole wide, so wide, then drove back in again. Clint shouted, arching back against his thrusts frantically. Bucky released his hair, moving to cup his jaw gently instead and groaned approvingly at the wet heat of Clint’s tongue against his fingertips.

“Gonna have your mouth on my cock while you’re getting fucked,” he panted, driving into Clint hard and fast. “You want that, baby? Want to suck my cock while your ass gets all filled up for me?”

Clint’s eyes rolled back and he gasped a sharp moan wetly around Bucky’s fingers. He nodded shallowly against the light grip of Bucky’s hand. A fierce rush of affection flooded through Bucky and a tidal wave of want followed quickly after. Bucky found himself babbling encouraging, affectionate filth into Clint’s sweaty nape.

He snapped his hips forward then ground deep, pressing the head of his cock against Clint’s prostate relentlessly. Rocking into him, Bucky gritted his teeth, desperate to maintain control. His limbs felt distant and uncoordinated; dimly, he noted the shaking of his thighs with surprise. 

“Then, it’ll be my turn and when I finish, I’ll put in that pretty, pretty plug you wanted so bad. And you can stay like that for me, gorgeous… Just waiting for me to fill you up later-” Bucky tilted up on his heels again with a sharp thrust. “Even _more_.” 

Clint spasmed wildly under him, his chest seizing up tight as he came with a shattered sound. His ass clenched rhythmically around Bucky and he managed a few more hard, driving thrusts before he was gone- a supernova flaring behind his eyes as he emptied himself into Clint. Bucky staggered for a moment before forcing himself to keep going. 

Clint’s chest heaved and he stuttered incoherent encouragements, his hole fluttering and clenching around Bucky with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Soon though, he collapsed down against the counter and Bucky’s grip; limp as an unstrung puppet. Bucky pulled his hand away from Clint’s jaw to stroke his sweaty hair from his face, pressed soft kisses into his neck, and murmured a litany of praises into his skin- _beautiful_ and _so good, sweetheart_ and _so proud, baby_.

Clint turned into the praise like a flower into the sun and Bucky ached at the sight.

0--0

Through sheer force of will that was almost certainly aided by his knockoff super-serum, Bucky managed to get them both wiped down, then dragged Clint to bed. He was pliable and soft, fairly humming with utterly spent satisfaction. Bucky had only seen him like this a handful of times. At first it had alarmed him. Now he knew it for the gift it was; the complete and total surrender of Clint’s safety into Bucky’s hands as Clint retreated into the pleasure he was feeling. 

Bucky tucked the duvet around Clint tightly, then made a quick trip to the kitchen for two bottles of Gatorade and a couple of power bars. He hated to leave Clint alone for even a minute when he was under like this, but fluids were definitely in order and Bucky hadn’t done a great job of preparing. Always room for improvement, he thought ruefully. 

He returned to the bedroom to find Clint pretty much exactly as he’d left him, sleepy-eyed and content. “Hey, sweetheart, let’s get you up, huh?” he said, setting aside his supplies onto the side table and levering Clint up until he was propped against the headboard. Bucky slid into the bed next to him and huffed a laugh when Clint immediately tipped against his side and nuzzled his shoulder. “Yeah, okay- but you gotta drink this for me first.” 

He plucked a straw from the package in the side table drawer and plopped it into one of the bottles, then pressed the bottle into Clint’s hand. Dutifully, Clint started sipping, still hazy-eyed and molded against him. The duvet was still tucked around him tightly, so Bucky tugged until he could get enough loose to wrap around himself as well. Then he downed half of his own drink and picked up his tablet once more. 

Swiping it open, he pulled up his Kindle app and picked up where they had left off. Bucky himself wasn’t a big fan of his own voice; too monotone and just the wrong side of gravelly. This was, he’d been vehemently informed, a travesty of an opinion. Normally when he read aloud, Clint would fiddle with Bucky’s fingers, make wry comments about plot failures, and even fuss with his arrows. But in moments like this, floating in that liminal space between awareness and hazy pleasure, Clint was so very still. He never seemed aware of what Bucky was saying, precisely, but he latched onto the sound of Bucky’s voice like a homing beacon.

Bucky read until he was too hoarse to continue. As usual, the absence of his voice brought Clint out of his pleasant fugue state. Clint blinked at him owlishly.

“‘d you stop?” he asked, brows tugged down in faint disapproval. 

“Needed a drink, baby.”

Clint’s answering grunt was begrudging at best. Bucky tried, and failed, not to snicker at his disappointed pout. He finished off the rest of his own drink and grabbed Clint’s empty bottle, tossing them into the wastebasket next to the bed. Reaching back into the nightstand drawer, Bucky retrieved the power bars from earlier and handed one to Clint. 

“Not gonna say you have to, but you really should eat.”

“Hate these things.” Clint wrinkled his nose in distaste at the power bar, but tore it open and started chewing absently. He’d made it maybe halfway through when the last of the languid haze that had been lingering in his eyes faded. 

Bucky stroked his thumb across the edge of Clint's cheekbone, “Welcome back- you feelin’ okay? Not too sore?”

Clint tilted his head thoughtfully, which Bucky appreciated; he’d hate it if Clint had just rattled off an affirmative.

“Mm, kinda sore, but more like- achy? In a good way,” he said around a mouthful of power bar. Clint looked him over. “You?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m good,” Bucky said, watching Clint carefully. He seemed to have more to say. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’, huh?”

Clint chewed the last of his power bar, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“So, that was- holy shit, that was so good. Amazing, actually,” Clint said, breathing out a long exhale. He cleared his throat and fiddled with the duvet, uncertainty coloring his expression. “Are you really okay with- y’know, the lingerie and the, ah.”

“The seconds?”

Clint glanced up at him, looking torn between hopeful and embarrassed, “Yeah, that. Because you know, just because I mentioned it once or twice doesn’t mean,” he stopped, clearly struggling for words. “Doesn’t mean anything, really.”

“Hey,” Bucky said, quietly. “Did it seem like I wasn’t into it?”

“Ah, no,” Clint admitted, with a snort. “You seemed pretty positive about me getting reamed by another guy and then-” he heaved out another sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face with a groan. “Why is this so hard to say? Obviously, _I_ want it.”

“Maybe that’s why,” Bucky said simply with a shrug. “Because you want it.”

Clint looked startled, then contemplative, “Huh.”

“It’s not like it’s something society encourages,” Bucky said, reaching up to stroke his hand through Clint’s hair. “I’m just glad you told me.” 

“So… Internalised slut-shaming?” Clint said ruefully.

“‘Fraid so, sweetheart.”

One of the things Bucky had always admired about Clint from the beginning was his brutal honesty. Not just with others, but with himself. Sure, he joked a lot, prevaricated excessively to fill the silence- but when he had something to _really_ say, it was always stripped of pretense. So Bucky hated that this was happening. Hated that Clint had bought the lie that he was in any way lesser than someone who didn’t want, or _need_ , the same things he did. That he would somehow taint Bucky with his libido. 

Clint stared down at his knees for a long moment and Bucky, well, he just kept stroking his hand through Clint’s soft blond hair. Reassuring words weighed heavily on his tongue but Bucky forced himself to wait it out. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Well fuck that,” Clint said grimly, pressing up into his personal space until his forehead rested against Bucky’s. “I love everything we do, because everything we do… well, it’s what _we_ want. So yeah, Bucky Barnes, I want to suck your cock while another man fucks me and then, and then- you should fuck me, too. If you want it, alright?” he whispered fiercely, the words ghosting across Bucky’s mouth like kisses. 

Clint’s words had tripped over each other haphazardly, nervously, but it struck Bucky suddenly, as it sometimes did, how brave Clint was. He made Bucky want to be brave too.

“Yeah, I want that. I want that a lot,” Bucky replied, just as quietly but no less fierce. “Because _you_ want it. That’s how this works for me, okay? You know that. I don’t know how it is for anyone else. I don’t care how it is for anyone else. For me, when I get to see you let go like you did tonight- when I help _make_ that happen?” Bucky shook his head helplessly. “Fuck, Clint. I may not always want sex, but I always want that. I always want _you_.”

Clint kissed him gently, closed and chaste, “You could never touch me again and I’d be happy, babe. You know that, right?”

“Don’t need to touch you to get you off,” Bucky said lightly, just to see Clint’s answering smile.

“See, and that’s what people don’t realize- how much of a little shit you really are!” Clint grinned delightedly. Then his expression sobered once more, “But you know what I mean. This, what we have… it’s not about the sex. Never was.”

Bucky thought back to that first time, so many months ago now. He recalled the yearning on Clint’s face as he had asked Bucky, begged him really, to take Clint out of his own head. How Clint had fallen apart under his hands and praise. He hadn’t even liked Clint then, but he’d respected him. Being given that level of trust; being shown that degree of vulnerability- Yeah. Bucky remembered how it had made him feel- how it still made him feel. Every time. 

Bucky draped his arms around Clint’s broad shoulders and tilted until he could meet his eyes, “No, it never was,” he agreed.

Clint smiled at him then with such simple sweetness that Bucky had to lean in and kiss it. An insidious tightness in Bucky’s chest that he hadn’t even realized was still lingering finally dissipated- his treacherous lizard brain had finally fully acknowledged that yes, Clint was _here_. 

He was safe and whole, if not completely untouched from his ordeal. Bucky knew Clint had been affected by his capture, but Clint's way of coping was to carry on until he just- couldn’t. The man was resilient in ways that took Bucky aback at times. Clint had to let things sit and live with him for a while; to wear at his defenses until he finally surrendered and faced it head-on with the grim determination of a doomed man. With anyone else, it would send up a host of red flags, but somehow Clint made it work. It might take several more days, even weeks, but eventually- well. 

When he was ready, Clint would turn to Bucky to reveal the ugly, knotted threads of fear and distress buried under his lazy grin and laconic slouch; eager to pick them apart.

And Bucky would be there.

  
0--0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, that's that. Mostly. Well, for now?
> 
> The plan is for at least at least one more pwp installment that will be, essentially, the culmination of the threesome talk in this ficlet. I'd also like to do more on the non-sexual ways in which Bucky and Clint exercise their dynamic.
> 
> Title from a lyric in Watsky's "Sloppy Seconds".
> 
> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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